300 Years to Learn
by MiracleWhipped
Summary: Jack Frost learned a thousand lessons on his own those 300 years. Every lesson alone in the way it counted. Every lesson the hard way. The value of change, of temperance, of his own destructive nature. Warning: Death of OC


Jack Learned a thousand lessons on his own those 300 years. Every lesson alone. Every lesson the hard way. The value of change, of temperance, of his own destructive nature.

**1 **_**You reap what you sow, a meeting at the crossroads**_

It was the first time he'd met Death. Officially.

Not death you see, but **Death**. Capitalized. Maybe even with bolding or an underline.

0c0o0l0d0

She was tiny and lost, golden-haired and not nearly as bundled as she needed for the day of winter fun she'd had.

She was cold then of course, but running on adrenaline and life.

Jack was just as happy then and the light snow drifting around showed it.

But night was nearing.

So now she was freezing.

0c0o0l0d0

And she was scared and just kept _walking..._and_ shivering._

Jack followed her, "Little girl, that's the wrong way."

Tried guiding her back to the group for fun until maybe he was a little lost himself.

By making signs of ice, arrows to point her away, and ice for her to slip on with enough force to take her on a ride back to the town. But she avoided it well or ignored it. He attempted to make a path for her to follow, but he was having more difficulty to interact with even his physical element.

Eventually, Jack tired of shouting, "STOP!"

He was use to the non-reaction, but this was the first time he wished to be heard for someone else's sake.

And for the first time he wasn't lonely or angry or mischievous.

No, he was scared, of what he wasn't sure. And with his fear the snow quickened pace and his fear seemed to triple.

0c0o0l0d0

Off in the distance the Nightmare King felt the tugging of delicious terror and made his way to the feast, while his counterpart flew making his rounds on fewer this night than normal.

Sanderson saw the slinking figure of Pitch Black and followed quietly.

0c0o0l0d0

She started to slow and eventually rested under a tree, an icy line trailing down her face and her lips tool on the blue tint of Jack's eyes. Jack rushed forward in confusion holding her, and it worked. He couldn't move her, but he was gladdened by this change and tried talking to her.

"Hey hun you need to get up and go home its the other way,"

The girl just gazed at him, "Are you an angel?"

She was so pale.

"I'm cold." It was odd to hear her say that, he was holding her and she wasn't shivering.

0c0o0l0d0

Jack stayed trying to get her to move, but she stopped responding much. There was suddenly a strange silence, under the slowing snow's fall. Jack was brought to attention and saw a solitary figure in front of both him and the girl.

That was the time two unseen observers came and remained hidden.

"Oh good, you can help me get her home! I can't get her to move."

The figure nodded, "YES JACK, I AM HERE TO HELP HER."

"I think she may be a little tired or something she's talking crazy about something called 'angels.'"

There are no more words, just another nod. In the tall figure's hand appears a long staff like Jack but with a sharp end on it.

Jack is suspicious, and sets her down to stand in front of her staff in hand. "What are you going to do with that? Who are you?"

The figure waves a hand and he is sent flying into the slow away from the girl.

"IT IS HER TIME JACK. SHE'S GOING HOME. AN OLDER HOME."

Jack doesn't like the sound of that and rises to fight for her, but a tiny hand on his back makes him stop. It's Sanderson, and he approaches the most timidly he'd ever seen. And a question mark appears above his head.

And the black figure nods and sweeps his arm to the girl. Sanderson gather's his sand and brings it to her placing it on her cheek and wipes away her tears.

She's dreaming of Jack, and amazingly to the winter spirit he has wings in her dreams and he's flying with her.

Sanderson goes back to Jack and puts a tiny hand on him.

The figure gets close to the girl, "I AM WHAT I AM, SO ARE YOU JACK. I HAVE MANY NAMES FROM MANY PEOPLE BUT IN THE END THEY ALL CALL ME DEATH." He touches her and the dream disappears. Jack blinks and he is gone, he rushes towards the little girl and picks her up, tries to gently shake her awake, getting more and more frustrated and confused. "No, No No! Where are they, where did he go?"

Sanderson was a stony mask, but looked compassionately at Jack but made no sign of explanation.

Now was when Boogeyman made his presence known, "It happens. Sometimes naturally or with some help like today."

That got Sanderson mad and he threw sand at Pitch.

"Help?!" Jack was startled and wide-eyed.

"You know that mess, with the girl? I'm sure you didn't mean to kill her, it's just what you are."

Sanderson gathered sand at his feet in anger while Jack just froze.

"I can take a hint, besides there's no more fear here just depression and denial."

Sandy turned back to Jack and patted his back with sorrowful eyes before leaving as well.

He stayed there for a long time holding her tiny body.


End file.
